Down Knocker
by OwnerOfAllGames
Summary: When 2nd Lieutenant OwnerOfAllGames and Lieutenant Horetep create a platoon together, the very fragments of civilization, sanity, and good taste in humor all shatter into a million pieces. (Based 100% on actual events that happened whilst platooned with Horetep)


"Hoooodooorrr..." Lieutenant Horetep's voice rang out from his microphone in his garage in World of Tanks. Not much is known about the officer other than all of his crew are experienced in the very essence of warfare.

For instance, his loader whose name I've forgotten, once got a shot off in his Grille before a scout could destroy him, of course he died shortly afterwards from a KV-1 but the man has never abandoned me in the hundreds of battles we've had together, other than that one time... or five... maybe fifteen.. or perhaps fifty.. but that's besides the point. The point is I trust him with my life, which is probably why me and my crew survive for about twenty seconds, sometimes fourty if I'm lucky.

"Hodor?" I replied, 2nd Lieutenant OwnerOfAllGames that is. (Owner for short.)

"Hey, how's it going?" Lieutenant Horetep trying to make small-talk again, he always does this before we move out.

"Pretty good, how you doing?" I responded back through my communicator, no response.

We sat there for a few moments, only a few moments, when suddenly he, his crew including that one loader whose name I've forgotten, and his vehicle of choice for the battle about to begin appeared next to mine. His team was French, clearly he was playing the BDR G1 B for this conflict.

I myself had chosen my beloved Churchill I (1) to go into battle for this day, our crew met together, and they began to get involved in insulting each other. Because as you know, Frenchmen and Englishmen can't get along at all.

"Ello, who is et?" A French private yelled at my Gunner, Corporal Alvin Macintyre. A good man that one, I think he won a medal or something.

"It is Corporal Macintyre, and these are my crew of the Churchill!" Macintyre replied. He introduced my Loader, Lance Corporal Fredrick Masters. My Radio-Operator Lance Corporal Steven Owen. My Driver, Corporal Garret O'Toole, and my second-in-command Sergeant Charlton Birchnall. The Frenchmen were clearly not impressed.

Whilst all of this was going on, me and Lieutenant Horetep were discussing our strategy for the upcoming battle.

"Hey, wanna play Tier V (Five)?" I asked Horetep, already knowing his answer.

"Suuuuurrrreeee.." He agreed and nodded. "I upgraded my Crew to 100% on the BDR, and I also have all of their first skills to 60%" He bragged, clearly priding himself on his gold, gold is the path to the wallet-side you know.

Back with the crewmen of the BDR and the Churchill, they continued their argument.

"Well, I'll ask him but I don't think he'll be very keen, eh... he's already got one, you see?" The Frenchman said to Corporal Macintyre.

"...What?!" Macintyre yelled back. "They said they already got one!" Lance Corporal Owen butted in, stating the obvious. "...Are you sure he's got one?!" Macintyre said, eager to confirm it.

"Oh yes, it's very niiiiiccceee..." The Frenchman confirmed. After confirming such, the Frenchman ducked back into the turret of the BDR and spoke to the rest of the crew. "I told him we already got one!" The crew began to giggle and "Trololololol" as they call it. He came back out of the turret and sat there with a cocky expression.

"...Well.." Macintyre trailed off... "...Can we come up and have a look?" He pleaded.

"Of course not!" The Frenchman spat back. "You are English-types!" The Brits looked at each other.

"...Well what are you then?!" Sergeant Birchnall remarked.

"I'm French! Why do you think I have this oooouuuuutttttraaaaaaaggggouuuuuussss accent, you silly Brit!"

"Ok." Lieutenant Horetep interrupted. "That's enough, break it up, shows over, Hodor."

I went back to my own crew and hushed them up, and we all got in our respective tanks, prepared to go into battle.

We found ourselves in the hot desert of Sand River, a mostly open map offering little concealment, but providing plentiful cover due to the large number of sand dunes. Three small villages provide temporary cover at best, but are easily destroyed, so they must be used cautiously. Each flag is well protected with a ridge offering defenders cover, concealment, and excellent firing positions. Plentiful cover allows an excellent arena for run and gun tactics while offering many routes for tanks to engage the enemy and make use of their mobility. Not that we'll use any of these tactics whatsoever.

"Tick"

..

"Tick"

...

"Tick"

...

"Tick"

...

Within the heated metal Sergeant Birchnall came up to me and saluted. "Sir, all of our systems are online and our communications are functional." He alerted me.

"Very well, thank you Sergeant." I sent him back to his position. I took out my communicator to my Platoon consisting of Lieutenant Horetep, we were with thirteen other subordinates.

"Hodor?" I spoke into the radio, choosing my words carefully.

"Tick"

...

"Tick"

"Hoooodoooorrrr..." Lieutenant Horetep replied casually.

I brought up my keyboard and began to type the following sentence, as I do with every battle, a sort of Warrior's Prayer.

"GLHPF, FOR JEROME AND HODOR!" I yelled into the radio serving as a communicator and morale-booster for all fifteen comrades.

"Shut the fuck up." The KV-1 replied.

"Gtfo noob." The M4 spat.

"Who the hell is Jerome?" T-1 Heavy questioned thoughtfully.

"Tick"

...

"TIME TO MOVE OUT!" Corporal O'Toole alerted the crew, as we began to move so did all other fifteen subordinates, aside from three that were away from their keyboards.

The ride over the ancient sands was uneventful, aside from a loud clank off the side of our tank, and muffled giggling over the microphone.

"Sir, something just bumped out near our tracks, but it bounced off!" Sergeant Birchnall said. I opened the top of the turret and raised my head carefully, only to realize it was Lieutenant Horetep's BDR G1 B.

"Hodor!" the Lieutenant yelled from his head peaking out of the turret, the damn BDR has air-conditioning at least.

Some Hellcats rushed out from our positions to scout the enemy, it never works, they always sneak up on us. The team just crossed the first of the dunes when tragedy struck, a shell in the distance was heard, and since I was a Churchill, that means I'm in the front of the lines. And when you're in the front of the lines, you're going to take the first of the shells.

A shell hit us square under the turret, and the corpse of Lance Corporal Masters fell motionless onto me. Never liked Masters anyway.

"The Loader just bought the farm!" Sergeant Birchnall yelled.

"clink" "CLANK!"

"Boom."

"Enemy is hit!" Corporal Wright informed, we did a total of five damage that round.

"Clink"

"CLANK!"

"Teammate: ClodHopper (noob tank) has been destroyed by BetterTeam121 (KV-1)"

"Clank."

"Teammate: Clodhopper 2 (good tank but no support) has been destroyed by BetterTeam462 (KV-1)

"BOOOOMMMMM", there was a loud explosion, and smoke suddenly filled the chambers of the Churchill, what was left of the crew began to cough and choke.

"We're on fire, everyone out!" Birchnall tried to get everyone out, an explosive shell exploded, and took out Sergeant Birchnall.

"Critical hit!" Corporal Wright cried out, and the noobs all began to get out of the Churchill. When 2nd Lieutenant OwnerOfAllGames, Corporal Wright, Lance Corporal Owen, and Corporal O'Toole got out of the burning Churchill, they were met with the sight of a completely unharmed BDR G1 B, clearly belonging to Lieutenant Horetep due to the skulls on the sides, sporting some purdy camo.

The personal radio on Owen's back began to beep off, and Lieutenant Owner answered.

"Hello, this is 1-o-6-100-Hodor, do you copy?" Owner began, but was cut off by Horetep.

"Well, at least I'm still alive." Horetep said in a humorous matter.

"...Great," Owner began, infuriated by his failed attempts at being a decent player. "I lasted a total of twenty six seconds in that fight, we lost Masters, AND we lost Birchnall in the course of TWENTY SIX SECONDS!" The radio was silent for a few moments, amongst Horetep and two other teammates being the only ones alive, it was 3 - 14 on the tanking list, and no victory was in sight.

"Down-knocker." Lieutenant Horetep said matter-of-factly into the radio, and then proceeded to hang up, leaving us in the Sand River where Owner ate all three of his comrades before finding his way magically back to the same garage.

The End.


End file.
